


Exceptions

by kxneki



Category: Social Network (2010)
Genre: M/M, or the reason behind 'wardo' fic, the "go climb a tree" fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-10
Updated: 2012-08-10
Packaged: 2017-11-11 21:02:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/482862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kxneki/pseuds/kxneki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mark doesn’t care that the computer could overheat and shutdown without saving his code. He knows. He knows the risk of just stopping and letting himself slip back into the past. He knows the risk, but he doesn’t see how it wouldn’t be every bit worth it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Exceptions

There’s this one time that Mark remembers frequently, reoccuring and interrupting his thought processes. Almost every time he codes, that single memory etches it’s way into his mind and he’s taken back to simpler times.

Today is no different. Mark is sitting at his laptop, an opened Red Bull half full on the desk next to his mouse and an empty bottle of beer next to it. Mark hasn’t used the bathroom in over three hours, Mark can’t remember the last time he ate. Mark looks down at the crumpled and semi-stained clothes he can’t remember when he put on last and decides that yes, he very well might smell.

It’s all so similar to that night at Harvard. And every time Mark goes on a coding binge, he remembers it. A warm tingling sensation filling his stomach as it flutters about.

He does it sometimes on purpose, just to remember. He would never admit it- no, never at all.

But as his fingers pause on the keys, the line of code stopping abruptly and the cursor blinking at him on the page in monoscript font. He knows it’s coming, he can feel the warmth of the Kirkland dorm and it’s so stark of a contrast when compared to the stale atmosphere of the facebook offices.

Really, Mark thinks it’s the first time he really started to get to know Eduardo. To _want_ to get to know him. Mark lets his fingers rest as they quiver when he relaxes the tense muscles. And he’s staring straight at the screen, seeing the unfinished lines of code. It’s incomplete, and at facebook nothing is ever incomplete.

Mark doesn’t care that the computer could overheat and shutdown without saving his code. He knows. He knows the risk of just stopping and letting himself slip back into the past. He knows the risk, but he doesn’t see how it wouldn’t be every bit worth it.

He can practically taste the swig of cold beer he had taken right before Eduardo is in his doorframe, watching his pale lithe fingers slide gracefully across the keys. Making beautiful melodies with just the tapping of his fingertips.

Mark knows he’s there, staring a hole into his face. But it’s fine, even though it sends tiny slivers throughout his spine in this fire-ish feeling that ignites but doesn’t burn. It’s alright because it’s just Eduardo. Or Ed, or whatever Dustin keeps calling him. Mark refuses Ed, because that sounds like a cable guy with plumber’s crack. And Eduardo is _not_ a cable guy.

Eduardo is the popular guy, clean and shaven and outgoing and basically everything that Mark is not. He’s nice and sympathetic and emotional. He’s probably the anti-Zuckerberg, but that’s okay too. Because he’s Eduardo, and how can’t you be okay with a guy like Eduardo?

Mark chances a glance upwards at Eduardo, and as soon as Mark catches his eye, a smile lights up his face, quirking at the corners but not reaching his eyes. He looks a bit tired, leaning against the wall. His hair a bit askew, but would be a normal hair day for anyone else. Anyone except Eduardo. The smile fades as he shifts a little, now standing upright and Mark’s gaze still lingers on his figure. The light is dim, but illuminates Eduardo perfectly. Mark thinks about how the laptop is illuminating his face, and he realizes it’s probably not such a good sight. His hair is greasy and matted, but curls are sticking out in various places. He has bags under his eyes from coding and his lip is chewed and gnawed on until it’s raw.

And Eduardo is in his doorframe, perfectly dressed in a suit, which is Eduardo’s casual attire. The only blemish Mark can pick out is the small worry lines appearing as Eduardo continues to stare at him. It wouldn’t be fair to look that perfect if it was anyone else. Anyone besides Eduardo.

“Hey.” His voice is silky smooth, penetrating the silence of the room. The curve of his lips as he speaks is mesmerizing, but Mark blames it on lack of sleep. He begins to notice details the longer he codes, and Eduardo seems like the perfect structure of a perfectly formulated scripture of code. It’s only lack of sleep.

Mark simply nods at him, eyes blinking as he tries to rid the blurry smudges from his vision. Returning his sight to the screen, his fingers back to tapping swiftly. Eduardo huffs out a laugh, which is more of a drawn out exhale of breath but it makes the hairs on the back of Mark’s neck stand up. Mark doesn’t like this type of reaction to people, usually. But he figures, it’s Eduardo so that makes it okay.

Mark never really noticed how or when he started making exceptions for Eduardo. As if he was the pennacle of Mark’s existence and that’s what made it okay for everything. Eduardo _was not_ the pennacle of Mark’s existence.

But maybe it was the way he laughed whenever Mark was downright degrading straight to his face, as if he was the most hilarious person on the planet. Maybe it was the way his arm always seemed to connect with his when they sat on the couch watching Dustin attempt at beating Chris on the Xbox. Maybe it was just the way he looked at him, as if Mark was awe-inspiring and… like he was _good_ or something. Mark was not even adequate. If Mark thought about it, it was probably because Eduardo is Eduardo, and that’s all he needs to be. Because Eduardo is Eduardo, and he is okay. Maybe more than okay.

And Mark can’t fathom why that is. Why it’s okay.

Mark hadn’t realized that he was falling asleep like that, with his fingers on the keys, crippling up with carpal tunnel and his head slouched onto his shoulder in an uncomfortable position. But Eduardo had noticed.

“Mark, wake up.” Eduardo’s voice is soft, and Mark can feel his breath billowing into his ear, softly. His arm is scorching, but it doesn’t hurt. Eduardo’s palm is on his arm, yet he can feel the warmth through his sweatshirt, it causes him to feel sticky and bare. But Eduardo’s lifting him gently, trying to coax him off the chair.

“Mark.”

“Eduardo.”

Mark intended that to sound bitter, and maybe a bit biting, but it comes off as groggy and sleep-ridden. When Eduardo’s hand accidentally slips under Mark’s sleeve and his skin brushes against Eduardo’s, Mark is fully awake. Fully aware and feels like he has static electricity coursing over him.

“Mark?”

“Eduardo.”

This does hold a bit of a bite to it, not insulting or ridiculing, but it stings. It would sting, if it wasn’t Eduardo.

But Eduardo is so close to him, shrouding him and encompassing him. Mark almost wants to drift to sleep right there, the thought scares him a little bit.

Eduardo’s face doesn’t move, not even for a smile. His owlish eyes staring into Mark’s face as he nods a little before saying, “Mark, your breath smells awful.” His features are completely serious as he says this. And Mark would have retorted back with venom had it been anyone else. Exceptions.

“You’re not as nice as people think you are.” Is what he says, his voice thick and cracking from being woken up. This time Eduardo does smile, that same authenticated Eduardo smile that almost everyone sees. At least, Mark thinks everyone sees them. He smiles absurdly all the time.

“When’s the last time you showered, Mark?” The worry lines scratch through Eduardo’s skin again, yet he’s still smiling.

Mark doesn’t know why Eduardo even thinks to care about such miniscule things such as Mark anyways. So he shrugs, noncommittally against Eduardo, and says, “I dunno.”

Which, in reality, no- he really doesn’t.

“You should shower Mark.”

“You’re not my mother.”

Eduardo laughs again, the heat from it splashed against Mark’s neck and ear making him feel moist and he can feel himself flush.

“And you say I’m not nice.” Eduardo is teasing him, which is semi-foreign to Mark. He doesn’t get the point of loitering around the edge of something instead of outwright saying it. But it’s Eduardo, so it’s okay.

“Yes. You aren’t nice.”

“Neither are you.”

Mark shrugs again and this time Eduardo backs off him, the both of them standing now. It feels awkward but not at the same time and Mark doesn’t really know how to go about this situation. Eduardo is standing in his room and Mark is standing too but neither know what to say. And it’s awkward.

“Feel free to leave.”

Eduardo kind of looks like he’s about to scoff at him, or maybe going to cry. Eduardo is so emotional, and Mark sometimes can’t keep up. But, that’s okay too.

“Are you excusing me from your presence?”

Mark shrugs again, stifling a yawn threatening to escape.

“You’re an asshole.”

Eduardo laughs that out, but he’s not smiling and Mark feels kind of weird about that. Like, don’t laugh but not smile, idiot. But he can’t say that. Because he’s Eduardo.

“Yes, well at least I can admit it.”

“Fuck you, go climb a tree or something.” Eduardo’s brows are furrowed and a serious tension forms as he says this. And Mark feels like he desperately needs, _wants_ to fix it. Eduardo shouldn’t even have that tone of voice or know how to use it.

Mark kind of smirks, the right side of his lips twitching upwards. “That’s very insulting.”

Eduardo looks kind of puzzled for a moment, almost gawking but recovers himself. “Well, _I’m not as nice as people think_. I do swear from time to time, Mar-“

“I’m not a squirrel, Wardo. How insulting.”

And he can see the way Eduardo lets the words sink in. Mark realizes that he changed Eduardo’s name, shortened it. And he figures it suits him way better than Ed, because Wardo is not a cable guy, and Wardo is not the pennacle of Mark’s existence. Wardo is just Wardo.

And then recognition flickers across Eduardo’s face, a smile breaking out as he laughs brilliantly, illuminating the room with soft chuckles. Mark thinks that’s the biggest he’s seen Eduardo smiling. The corners of his mouth are unruly as they launch upwards on his face, his eyes are crinkling beyond being able to see and he’s laughing. His chest rising and falling like a rollercoaster as he rides out his laughs.

When Eduardo stops, Mark notices that he’s smiling too. The biggest he has in a while. Too long.

“No, but you really do smell Mark. Go shower, it’s kind of disgusting.”

“Shut up, Wardo.”

They both are wearing their smiles, big and bright and proudly. And Mark goes to take a shower because he really does smell, and it’s not because Eduardo told him too. Even though, because he’s Eduardo, it’s okay that he told him too.

And from that day on, it was okay for Eduardo to talk to him like that. It was okay for Eduardo to just be Eduardo. Sweet, and emotional, and nice, and clean. And sometimes not as nice as people think. Because he’s Wardo.

“Mark, what are you doing?”

But that’s not Wardo’s voice. It’s more shrill and annoying. And suddenly the air is dry and cold and he’s stiff in a computer chair, sitting at a desk. And Wardo’s not in his doorway, it’s Dustin.

And that would be okay, if Dustin was Eduardo. But, Mark decides, it’s not really okay at all. Because he’s back in the offices of facebook, and Eduardo is somewhere _not_ here. And that’s not really okay.

“Nothing. Coding.”

“Your fingers weren’t even moving.”

Mark sends Dustin the most threatening glare he can, which tells Dustin that he’s not in the mood.

“And dude, it reeks in here. Take a shower or something.” And Dustin is gone, the clack of the door shutting fills the air for a solid second. And Mark is alone.

And it’s not okay for Dustin to tell him to shower. Because Dustin is not Eduardo.


End file.
